


Two killers walk into a bar...

by andrea_deer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series, There should be one more character in the tags, With A Twist, but it'd ruin the twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 21:47:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1241797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrea_deer/pseuds/andrea_deer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The very first time they've met, they were surprised how easily they fell into a comfortable conversation. Without any life-altering confessions or deeds they simply started talking and sentences flew smoothly and with an ease they usually had to fight for so hard with other people.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two killers walk into a bar...

**Author's Note:**

> Edited and re-uploaded short fic, written before 3rd series, but I think it could totally work with the new info as well. ;) Previously posted [here](http://thenorthwing.livejournal.com/7551.html).
> 
> Betaed by **ad00absurdum** @ LJ.

The very first time they've met, they were surprised how easily they fell into a comfortable conversation. Without any life-altering confessions or deeds they simply started talking and sentences flew smoothly and with an ease they usually had to fight for so hard with other people.

They ordered another pint and moved from the bar to sit in the booth under the wall. One of them in jeans, button up shirt and brown suit jacket. Too casual to be official, too official to be casual. He was one of the hundreds men like him on the streets. Not handsome, not important, not even nice.

The other man wore jeans and a T-shirt, which made him look even younger than he pretended to be as he glanced coyly at the barmaid. People noticed his smile, his warm, kind eyes and nervous hands, which was a clear sign that they haven’t noticed him at all.

At some point, between one sentence and another sip of beer, both men looked up and their eyes met for a bit too long than it seemed to be the norm in social interactions. Honest for a few passing seconds. Partly accident, partly miscalculation, mostly a test. 

_Who the hell is he?_ both men wondered suddenly, dread mixing with excitement and burning curiosity.

Jim thought quickly and finally smiled. Not his happy, clueless smile, but a too bright, too wide, too sharp smile of the dangerous madman hiding behind the useful mask.

_Does he know who I am?!_ he thought, unknowingly once again reflecting the thoughts of his companion.

He extended his hand as if finally remembering his manners and making a quick decision of exactly how he wanted to introduce himself.

"Jim Moriarty, by the way," he said as the other man grasped his hand in a firmer handshake than he expected.

"Sebastian Moran," the other answered with a name that did not match the one on his driving license and Jim leaned in, grinning widely.

"Two killers walk into a bar," he said with a wink. "Stop me if you know this one."


End file.
